“Yes,” said Angus, “I also know that I have a wish comin’ to me, isn’t that so?”
“Well,” said Chris Tinker, “I suppose you do. But I was just wonderin’ if you’re a gamblin’ man or not?” He gave Angus a wink and waited for an answer.
Gambling was against the church, thought Angus, but this was different. Yes, this was very different indeed. Besides, most of the men in town gambled anyway, as long as Father O’Dell wasn’t around to see it.
Angus knew that this was probably a trick of some sort and that he should just get his wish and have done with it, but he was curious about the leprechaun’s question.
“Well, I might gamble a bit now and then, but what has that to do with a wish?” asked Angus.
“I’ll tell you,” said Chris Tinker, “Do you know how I came to be on that turtle’s back when you found me?”
“No,” said Angus. “How should I know?”
“Well, here’s where the gamblin’ comes in. Now, I know your love of tellin’ stories that aren’t entirely true. I’ve been called the best leprechaun storyteller in all Shannon, and you’ve been called similar things. I say we each tell a story about how I ended up on the back of that turtle. My story will be true and you can make yours up. And after, if we decide that your story is better than mine, I’ll grant you two wishes instead of one. But if we decide that mine is the better of the two, you get no wishes and you have to let me go. Now, are you a gamblin’ man or aren’t you?” asked Chris Tinker.
Angus thought for a moment. Well, if it is a trick, he hadn’t really lost anything, had he? And if the leprechaun’s story was good, Angus could retell it in the tavern that night. And if Angus’s own story was better, then he’d have two wishes instead of one; no matter how you look at it, he’d come away with something.
“I’ll do it!” cried Angus, and so it was. “Who shall go first?” asked Angus, who already had a story brewing in his mind.
“Well seeing as I already know my story, it being true, why don’t I tell mine first. That way, you’ll have time to think of yours,” said Chris Tinker.
“So be it,” agreed Angus, “but let me light my pipe and find a decent stone to sit on. Would you care for a smoke?”
“I would, thank you,” said the leprechaun, as he reached for his own tiny hare bone pipe. Angus poured a little of his own tobacco into the small pipe, spilling most of it, then lit the two pipes. At last, they were ready.
“Well, it started this morning, before the dew sprite had even made her rounds,” Chris Tinker began, “I was safe at home, sleeping like a pup, when I heard a loud noise outside my window in the hollow tree where I live. I looked outside, and what do you think I saw?”
Angus shrugged and took a draw on his pipe.
“I saw a shadowy figure crouched outside my tree, making a sound that would stop your whiskers from growing. I thought it might be a banshee or some other such evil thing so I stayed hidden, not making a sound. Well, it didn’t go away, so I thought that perhaps I should investigate. I slowly walked around to the front door of my tree and opened it. I looked at where the thing should have been and it was gone. So, as I turned to go back inside, what do you think I see starin’ me right in the face—but what looks to be the angel of death himself, a-screamin’ and howlin’ to knock the breath right out of you!
“I nearly jumped out of my beard, I can tell you. Now, leprechauns have magic, but not enough when it comes to dealin’ with the devil himself. My only thought was to get away from this demon and hope that it might pass me by if I stalled it long enough. It wore an evil-looking shroud which covered its face and body, and though it wasn’t much taller than a tree stump, it hissed and moved like a serpent on fire!”
“Now, now,” said Angus, a bit unbelieving but enthralled at the same time.
“Now, now, yourself, man! I mean to tell you that in all my years of seeing and encountering evil fairies and such, this was the diller of them all. I could barely move, I was so scared. When he came for me, I felt my heart in my feet and started running toward the stream as fast as I could. I knew that if I could make it to the water, I might be safe, since evil spirits can’t stand water, and there are more places to hide, too. Well, he chased right after me, growling and tearing up the ground as he went. I leaped to the right and to the left, hoping to lose him, but he followed just as close as ever. I was about out of breath by the time I reached the water, but once my legs get started, there’s no stopping them. The thing was just behind me and gaining, when I reached the stream. I was out of time, and I knew I had to think fast. In the moonlight I saw a group of large stones in the stream, leading across, and jumped on the closest one, with the idea of crossing the stream and escaping. I was hoping that the raging devil-creature would not be quite so eager to keep after me since I was heading into the stream, seeing as it was too big to cross on the stones. I was in luck. It stopped at the edge of the stream and let out a terrible yell. I was still crossing on the stones, when one of the stones began moving. It was the turtle, and he began to swim downstream.”
“So that’s how you ended up on his back, eh?” Angus laughed, “but what about the thing that was chasing you?”
“Well, be patient and I’ll tell you,” said Chris Tinker. “I was glad to be away from that thing, and even though I was not completely out of danger, since I can’t swim and I was on the back of a turtle in the middle of a stream, at least the thing had stopped chasing me. As I sat on the back of the turtle, I could still hear it. It was moving along the side of the stream and I hoped the turtle would not decide to return to shore. Though it had been very dark, sunlight began creeping into view, and soon it was bright as day. I could still hear the demon wailing and running alongside the stream, and finally it burst from the wood and I could see it clearly!”
“Yes, yes!” said Angus, anxious to hear what the devil-creature looked like.
“It was a large grey fox that a hunter had bagged. It must’ve gotten away and couldn’t get out of the bag completely. Poor thing, it was frightened and howling so. It had simply come to me for help. Many of the animals around here do. Anyway, it wasn’t a devil-creature or anything of the like. Just an ordinary grey fox!” With that, Chris Tinker burst out laughing and slapped his knee so hard, he dropped his pipe.
Angus had to laugh at the story. Imagine, a leprechaun thinking a grey fox was the devil-incarnate.
“Not a bad story, at that,” said Angus, filling his and the leprechaun’s pipes, “I’ll have a time out-doing you on that one.” Angus then took out his potato, roll, and cheese and offered some to the little man, who did not refuse it.
“After we eat, I’ll give it a whirl,” Angus said. They ate and enjoyed the meal and each other’s company, and admired the afternoon. Angus loosened the hook from around the leprechaun’s waist, but did not take it out completely. He knew that even though they had a bargain, leprechauns were not completely trustworthy, and Chris Tinker would probably run away if given the chance.
“Alright, I think I got one,” said Angus after their pipes were filled and lit a third time. He was rather enjoying this and whether he got his wishes or not, he had a story or two to tell at the Redwolf tonight.
“This is the way I see it,” he began. His mind always had a story there, whether it was one he’d heard or one he was in the process of making up. They all seemed real to him, even the ones he created, as though it had perhaps happened in another life. And he truly believed what he was saying, which was why most people believed that his stories were true.
“You know as well as I that the best time to catch the fish, minnows in your case, is early, early in the mornin’. Before, as you said, the dew sprite makes her rounds. Well, the way I see it is that being that a leprechaun is as good a fisherman as the next man, perhaps you had it in your mind to go fishin’ in the early hours, when the fish are just wakin’ and fancy a bit of breakfast. Well, let’s just say that you got your little reed pole and a hook of thorn and se
t out to catch your own breakfast. Now, if you’re like me, you probably do this every Sunday, rain or shine, and you take some gratification in the fact that you never come home empty-handed, even if it only be a small one or two.”
“I must say that you’re fairly close to the truth on several counts, except that my fishin’ day is Tuesday. But continue,” said Chris Tinker.
“Alright. Now, maybe you made your way down here to the stream, put a crumb on your hook and cast your line near the edge of the water where the tiny carp hide. Then you sat down on a mossy rock, lit your pipe and waited for a hit. Now, supposin’ you got comfortable and hadn’t had a bite. It bein’ early, you might just fall asleep, now wouldn’t you?”
“Not with my blamed hook in the water, I wouldn’t!” exclaimed Chris Tinker.
“Well, let’s just say you did,” continued Angus, “So, there you are, sound asleep with a baited hook, and holdin’ on to the pole in your sleep. Now, you know as well as I that the trout in this stream get rather hefty this time of season, and they’ll go for just about anything big enough to swallow. Now, suppose a little lazy minnow was to bite that crumb you had on your hook and not make enough fuss to wake you up…”
“I’d feel ‘em in my sleep, I would!” said Chris Tinker.
"Not if you’d had a bit of whiskey and not enough sleep last night, you wouldn’t!” countered Angus. “A trout would be tickled to find a minnow for breakfast, especially one that couldn’t seem to get away from him, for reasons unknown to him. He wouldn’t think twice about swallowing that minnow, not knowin’ that there was a little hook there as well. So, he might take the hook and, well,” laughed Angus, “take you along with it!” Angus roared at the thought of Chris Tinker being pulled through the water by a large trout.
“That’s not funny!” cried the leprechaun, “it’s almost happened once or twice. I’ve lost several of my best poles that way, not to mention some fairly good-sized breakfast minnows!”
Angus was still chuckling, but knew he should get on with the story. He regained his composure and continued, “Well, you’d probably have woken up by then, and found yourself slidin’ through the water like a snake. You’d be afraid to let go the pole since you can’t swim and you’d sink like a bucket in a well. Oh, you might call out, but who’d hear? So, you’d be holdin’ on for dear life, hopin’ that the trout might pass by a rock or tree limb and you might get out with your skin. But, the trout thinks he’s hooked and he wants to give it a fight, so you’re in trouble.”
“Yes,” said Chris Tinker, acknowledging the seeming hopelessness of the situation.
“A trout in trouble,” continued Angus, “is like a beacon to other, larger fish. Remember, they’re all hungry in the mornin’ and they’ll go for anything that moves. So, there you are, defenseless and wet, holding on with both hands while the trout pulls you through the stream. You might look like a tasty treat to another trout who’s followin’, lookin’ for an easy meal.”
“That I might,” said Chris Tinker, with a pained expression on his face. “But what’s to come of me, eh?”
“Now, don’t look that way, all isn’t lost,” said Angus. “True, you might be swallowed by an even larger trout, but you’re in luck; because he doesn’t chew you, you go straight to his stomach. And there you sit, wonderin’ what to do now.”
“In the trout’s belly!” shouted Chris Tinker, “that’s a wonder!” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “What then?” He was enjoying this tale immensely, partly because it was so absurdly amazing, and partly because it was his own hide that Angus was speaking of. He could hardly wait to hear what happened to him next.
“Luckily for you,” said Angus, “you still had your hare bone pipe in your mouth and believe it or not, it was still lit. This set you to thinkin’ and you didn’t waste much time puttin’ the lit end of your pipe to the tongue o’ that trout, and begorra! If a fish could yell, then that one sure enough did! He spit you up and out, and you went sailin’ through the air like a shootin’ star, and got caught in the leafy branches of an old oak. Well, you thought you were safe and sound, didn’t you?”
“Faith,” sighed Chris Tinker, wiping his brow, “what more can happen to me?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” continued Angus, “unfortunately, you landed very near a mother owl’s nest and she was spyin’ you, thinkin’ you’d make for a tasty meal for her chicks. Not only that, but she wouldn’t have to travel far to catch you. You’d gathered yourself up and seen her the same time she’d seen you, so you knew you’d have to think fast.”
“I’ll say,” said the leprechaun, “Life isn’t easy for a man my size. It’s certainly not all fun and games like people think. But don’t leave me hangin’ there in the tree! What’s next?”
“You inched out on the limb, bit by bit, as the owl inched out after you. The stream was below you and the owl was beside you—what would you do?” asked Angus.
“That’s some predicament you put me in, blast you!” cursed Chris Tinker, “but I’d rather drown than be lunch to an owl’s brats!”
“You jumped, alright,” chuckled Angus, “You held your nose, said a prayer and hopped off the limb just as the owl reached out her claws to grab you!”
Chris Tinker put his hands over his eyes, not wanting to hear what was next.
“And you landed right smack on top o’ that turtle, who was so startled, he almost swam out of his shell.”
Chris Tinker opened one eye and said, “You mean, I didn’t drown?” he asked, fearing the worst.
Angus roared with laughter. “Of course not, you silly fool, or you wouldn’t be listenin’ to this story!”
“Darned if you didn’t have me almost believin’ it was true!” said Chris Tinker, opening both eyes and taking a deep breath. “Well, I guess you get your wishes since your story was by far the better of the two. What’ll you have?” he said, resignedly, “A pot o’ gold and a high seat in the county? A pretty wife and servants to work your land? Riches and fame? What’ll it be?”
Angus laughed to himself. “How do you like that?” he said, “All the years I’ve been telling stories about you folk, now I’m here, talking to you, man to, er, elf, with wishes to boot. Doesn’t that take it?”
“Your forefathers could hardly believe it either when they stumbled upon me. I mean that literally,” said Chris Tinker with a comical grin.
“I wish I knew all the stories that they had told,” said Angus, reflectively, “I’ll bet they had some amazin’ ones to tell.”
“Leapin’ lightnin’! You are a gamblin’ man and you just made your first wish!” howled Chris Tinker with delight. That took care of one wish and it was an easy one. Angus laughed, too. He shook his finger at the leprechaun.
“You tricked me!” he said, “But, actually, I could certainly have made a much lesser wish. Now that I think of it,” he continued, rubbing his chin, “I don’t think I could have thought of a better wish had I been trying!”
“And I personally shall see that it’s granted,” said Chris Tinker, solemnly. “Every Sunday, as usual, you shall come to this place, fish, and listen, while I expound to you the stories that I once told your ancestors. Stories about my people and the other strange fairies, elves and such, that abound in these hills and knolls. The ones that have been all but forgotten. And you shall retell them in the Redwolf and thereby keep them alive!”Angus stared at the little bearded man for a moment.
“You mean to say that you were the one who passed those stories on to my father’s fathers?” he said. Chris Tinker nodded and winked. “Now, how else could they have known so much about us and our ways?” he asked, chuckling. “Someone had to tell ‘em. And now,” he said, pointing a crooked little finger at Angus, “I’ll be tellin’ you!” It dawned on Angus that he’d been used, and very artfully at that.
“You planned this whole thing, now didn’t you?” he said in a playfully accusing tone.
“Like I told you,” said Chris ‘Tinker, “I had to fin
d out if you were worthy. I see now that you are, and I’m glad for it. I’ve got stories that’ll set your ears and them at the Redwolf’s burnin’, I do.”
“Well, flamin’ clover!” shouted Angus. He could not believe it. “So we both got a wish, then, eh?”
“Ah, but you still got one comin’ to you. Have you made up your mind yet what you’ll have? I must be gettin’ back to my tree,” said Chris Tinker.
“Well,” said Angus, knowing already what he wanted. “I would like my place fixed up a bit. I’m too old to do it myself and there’s no one to do it for me. Could you grant me that?”
Chris Tinker yawned and blinked. All of a sudden, he was unhooked and out of the tree and standing on Angus’s shoulder. “Go home,” he said, “You’ve got what you asked for. Not much of a wish, if you ask me, but if you’re satisfied…”
“You could’ve gotten away at any time, you rascal!” cried Angus. “Every thing my family ever said about you folk is true. You are a devious people, indeed!” Angus and the leprechaun both laughed, and then said goodbye until the next Sunday, when they would meet again.
On his way home, Angus thought about everything that had happened that day. Very strange, he thought, that the leprechaun could have planned everything so cleverly. The whole day had been contrived from the beginning. Even the leprechaun’s story had probably been untrue. He thought about how surprised his ancestors must have been, and how surprised he had been to meet Chris Tinker. The townspeople would never believe this tale, but it didn’t matter. Angus believed it, and would tell the story tonight at the Redwolf. And next week he would meet the leprechaun again, and he would have more incredible stories to tell. And so it would go for a long, long time, for he was to live a great many years, always telling stories. He didn’t know then, as he walked back to his newly renovated cottage, how the legend and fame of his story-telling was to grow in his part of the world. Even so, he knew it was a very special day, and he sang softly to himself:
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